It was Monday evening. Hard to believe that it had been only a day since all of this started—or at least since Jilly and I fell down a rabbit hole into boganland and had our lives turned upside down.

Neither of us had much to say about it. We hadn’t much to say about anything since we came up to shower and get changed. We were supposed to meet Lizzie and the others downstairs, but while we each had a shower and changed into fresh clothes, we made no move to leave the room.

In the old days, we could be together for hours and never need to say a word. Maybe we’d get that back, but right now the silence had a weight for me, and I felt I needed to break it. I stood up and came to stand beside her. The last of the day was leaking out of the sky, glowing a hundred shades of mauve and pink behind the tall pines.

“You must be relieved,” I said.

Jilly looked up at me from the wheelchair.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

I shrugged. “You know. You’ve finally got the last of Tyson County behind you.”

“It doesn’t feel any different,” she said. “Not now that we’re back. It’s . . . there’s no magic here.”

“Maybe not right here, but we both know it exists in this world.”

She smiled. “It’s still funny hearing you say that.”

“You mean when I’ve spent so long denying it and finding more rational reasons for what couldn’t really be explained except as magic?”

“Pretty much.”

“Well, you know us Riddells. Bang either one of us along the side of the head with something for long enough, and we’ll eventually sit up and pay attention.”

“Yeah, neither you nor Christy is big in the change department.”

“Some people would say that’s part of our charm.”

“Some people would only be you and Christy.”

I smiled. “That was almost sassy.”

“It was, wasn’t it?”

I sat down on the bed, and she turned the wheelchair so that she was facing me.

“So, what was with that business back on the mesa?” I asked. “About your not wanting the crow girls’ help? Ever since the accident, you’ve been all into self-healing meditations and alternative medicine to get your strength and mobility back. Why don’t you want to try this?”

“I don’t know. It seems too easy. Like I didn’t earn it.”

“Didn’t you once tell me how wrong it was for people to think the only wisdom or help they could appreciate was if they paid something for it?”

“There’s always a payment.”

“You know what I mean,” I told her. “And besides, if you’re going to talk about things being earned, you didn’t earn the crap you’ve had to deal with in your life.”